A Tale of Twisted Time
by Ael L. Bolt
Summary: Voldemort is dead, the Ministry in shambles, the Muggles aware of magic, and Hermione Granger has been killed in front of a greviously-wounded Harry Potter. Ron Weasley decides to turn back time to 1981 and stop the destruction from ever starting, but som
1. Prologue: Aftermath

A Tale of Twisted Time  
  
Written by Ael L. Bolt and Damos no Yami  
  
Rating: R (mostly for the prologue)  
  
Genre: Drama/Angst  
  
Pairings: R/Hr  
  
Possible Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP  
  
Summary: It's the aftermath of the Final Battle. Voldemort is dead, the Ministry in shambles, the Muggles aware of magic, and Hermione Granger has been killed in front of a greviously-wounded Harry Potter. Ron Weasley decides to turn back time to 1981 and stop the destruction from ever starting, but something goes wrong. Terribly wrong.  
  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all associated paraphenalia belong to JK Rowling and some other people. Ael just owns the idea and the plot, and Damos owns...well, pretty much nothing.  
  
Author's Notes - Ael: I know this sort of thing has been done before, but I've always seen it as Harry going back in time instead. The original script called for Hermione to be a clueless Muggle librarian, Ron to be your run-of-the-mill Death Eater, and Harry to be a homeless thief – as well as Ron's reasoning for using the Time Turner being jealousy of Harry's fame, rather than sympathy towards it. However, with Damos' overactive imagination (just kidding hun!), it has developed into this. And mark me, this is much better. Expect darkness, treachery, posession, prophecies, and much more.  
  
Author's Notes – Damos: ...Yeah, what she said. 'cept for the disclaimer. Oi.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
"Well who is this angry man I see  
  
In the mirror, looking back at me?  
  
It's a man who's tired, a man who's weak  
  
It's a man who needs a savior."  
  
~Steven Curtis Chapman, "Savior"  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Prologue: Aftermath  
  
Over.  
  
It was over.  
  
Ron slowly got up from where he'd fallen, gazing over the field of battle. He fought the urge to throw up. Not fifty feet before him lay the Great Dark Lord, master of the Death Eaters and the one who had been the thorn in the side of all wizardry in general, and Ron's best friend specifically. Dead, now, but no less reviled because of it.  
  
Not ten feet before him lay Hermione, equally dead.  
  
He stumbled forward to her, not noticing the things his feet caught and tripped on, the overwhelming heat that surrounded everything, falling to his knees next to her... she lay awkwardly, her limbs bent uncomfortably but not unnaturally... he gently shifted them, lying her straight. No mark showed on her body to hint at her death, as was the way with the killing curse.  
  
It was ironic, somehow... he glanced up at the body of Voldemort, a black shape crumpled on the ground ahead. Ironic, knowing that he would have suffered the same fate. Harry had confessed to using an unforgivable curse once before, to Ron and Hermione. It hadn't worked properly, then. "You needed to mean it, to want it, to enjoy it," had said the Death Eater.  
  
Voldemort was dead. Ron didn't want to think about it.  
  
All around him, healers from St. Mungo's moved between the piles of moaning wizards, some unmoving in death. The field where the Ministry of Magic had once stood lay littered with craters full of the dead and dying, and the healers were too few. Horrified muggle observers watched from the sides, and some of the more compassionate ones lent their meager skills to the healers. A news helicopter hesitatingly flew in circles overhead, taking in the video of the flaming wreckage of a once-proud London. Smoke billowed up from hundreds of burning buildings, and wizards and muggles alike cried out into the unnatural darkness as they died together.  
  
Ron felt a weak hand grip his shoulder, and slowly raised his eyes to meet those of Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived was swaying unsteadily, holding a hand to his side in an attempt to stop liters of precious blood from cascading out of his frail body. Only one of his dulled green eyes focused through shattered, blood-streaked frames, and neither man saw fit to speak as Harry let himself slide awkwardly to his knees at Hermione's side. They sat in silence for long minutes.  
  
"It's over." Harry's voice resonated deep with age and injury, one trail of blood tracing a path from mouth to chin as he coughed, silently enduring an inferno of agony.  
  
Ron's hands tightened around the reddened soil, staring at Hermione's face, peaceful as it was in death. "I should've been faster," he whispered, releasing the dirt as he raised his hand to touch her cheek tenderly. "It should have been me."  
  
Harry said nothing, merely squeezed Ron's shoulder as best he could with his crushed hand. They sat in silence, the only noises the sounds of the dying in the darkness.  
  
Ron finally reached up and removed Harry's injured hand from his shoulder as he stood, looking at Harry but somehow not focusing. Harry merely watched through dark eyes as his best friend vanished into the smoke and ruin.  
  
Ron staggered through what had once been the Ministry of Magic, though he was not really aware of such a thing. The large crater was still scorching to the touch, but Ron didn't care as he fell to his knees and halfheartedly started digging with his bare hands. As if a switch had been flipped, he suddenly began to swipe at the debris with a vengaence until his hands caught on a delicate golden chain, swinging around numb fingers. The small hourglass came to rest against his knuckles, deceptively insignificant against the backdrop of destruction. A small drop of beauty in an ocean of hideousness.  
  
Slowly, as if he were afraid it would crumble to dust at the faintest breath, he placed the chain of the Time-Turner around his neck and stood to face where he knew Hermione's body lay, even though he couldn't see it. "I love you," he whispered as if she could hear him.  
  
He wasn't going to change the battle.  
  
He was going to change the war.  
  
The simple-looking hourglass tumbled between Ron's fingers, and with a dark yanking sensation, the very fabric of time was torn asunder. 


	2. Chapter One: A Twist in Time

Author's Notes – Ael: This chapter is LONG. Compared to others anyway. Be warned, after this chapter things start going a little freaky. Okay, more than a LITTLE freaky. Thanks are owed to loonylupin21, deranged black kitten of doom, ohjuotaku, Lily and James Potter, and Rory-Dasiny for reviewing the prologue.  
  
Author's Notes - Damos: N/A (i.e. Ael is updating while Damos sleeps, him being in the nearly-opposite timezone.)

- - - - - - - - - -

"Things aren't the way they were before  
You wouldn't even recognize me anymore  
Not that you knew me back then  
But it all comes back to me in the end  
You kept everything inside  
And even though I tried  
It all fell apart  
What it meant to me will eventually be  
A memory of a time when  
I tried so hard and got so far  
But in the end, it doesn't even matter  
I had to fall to loose it all  
But in the end, it doesn't even matter..."  
  
--Linkin Park, "In the End" 

- - - - - - -

Chapter One: A Twist in Time  
  
Time spun backwards like some sort of horrible time-capture video in reverse. And all in all... it was pretty boring. Within the first couple of spins, the ministry of magic was back to normal, the fire and destruction gone. Knowing it would return within a few hours made it somehow even worse.  
  
After a few spins, maybe a day or so back, he recognised that this was not going to be a worthwhile process. At an hour at a time, it would take tens of thousands of spins, even more. But now he was in a dark room, the tiny hourglasses everywhere, the strange jar with the rapidly-cycling hummingbird.  
  
Time for a better solution.  
  
He searched through the massive hall, examining the hourglasses. The second shelf he passed brought him face-to-face with a stunned-looking ministry of magic researcher; a quick spin of the hourglass lost him in time. He kept searching, and eventually he found it. It was a massive version of the smaller hourglasses – far from portable. It was marked with many warnings, which betrayed its use – a year's time-shifting at a time. The safeguards around it were impressive; between Ron's knowledge of magical wards and a few handy timeshifts, they were bypassed without notice – or at least, without notice which would not arrive until several hours in the future.  
  
He wondered why nobody had done this before.  
  
Although, he supposed, there was always the possibility that someone had. Once history had changed... who would know?  
  
He took hold of the great hourglass in one hand, and after a moment of hopeless lifting, he gave up and used his wand. Slowly but surely, he turned it, one, two, three... holding his hand on it carefully... seven, eight, nine... feeling time pulling away like a massive wind tearing at his soul... thirteen, fourteen, fifteen times.  
  
It was amazing how little the ministry had changed in fifteen years.  
  
He bypassed the wards again – they _had _changed, but it was the work of a moment to figure them out... and he went for the door.  
  
Locked.  
  
He tried _Alohomora_, but with little hope - this was maximum-security amongst the ministry. Apparition was also out of the question. He growled, and watched the door, then smiled. Sooner or later, somebody had to come in. He waited.  
  
After a while, he started fiddling with the hourglass out of pure boredom. After all, it was just as likely that somebody opened the door an hour ago than a minute in the future. It was still a long time, and many hourglass turns, later, that the door cracked open.  
  
"_Stupefy_," he whispered. The man never knew what hit him. However, the man next to him did, and he raised his wand in readiness to face an attacker from within. Ron leapt out, punched him in the face, and turned the hourglass. The door was shut again, but this time he was on the outside.  
  
He ran.  
  
It was approximately ten seconds before security picked up on someone running. Then three seconds later, they were left mystified as their target had just vanished entirely from an area entirely apparation-proof. By the time they'd figured out what had happened, they were wiped from existence as their timeline was eliminated; the same process occurred an hour in the past.  
  
It took Ron ten minutes to get out of the deep-security zones, but by the time he'd done so he was about three days behind. He was having fun, if a rather grim sort of fun. Once he found he could apparate, he found a reasonably out-of-the-way corner, turned the timer until he reached the end of the business day, and walked calmly and unnoticed over to the designated zone for such, and Apparated to the safest place he could think of – the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade. And it was from here that he lay out his base of operations, trying not to think about the fact that somewhere out there, he was one year old and probably at the mercy of his slightly-older twin brothers. Because trying not to think about that pushed out of his mind trying not to think about events that had occurred fifteen years in the future.  
  
He went down into Hogsmeade, causing minimal comment. He found out the date. And he smiled. He'd actually arrived earlier than he'd intended to already. October fifteenth, read the enchanted calender he picked up from the post office. Just over two weeks before the fateful day which would turn the wizarding world on its head. It was almost laughable, really. Almost. Well, not really.  
  
He sat there for a while, mulling over his plan of action. Everything had been instinct and chance so far. But now he was going up against the Dark Lord himself. He needed a plan.  
  
First, he needed a chink in the armour. A plan of access. They'd studied various techniques and strategies used by the Death Eaters between History and DADA, but he wasn't entirely sure how one went about, say, finding them. That sort of information was rather scarce, funnily enough.  
  
Not wanting to be disturbed, he went to the Hog's Head pub. The bartender looked... almost the same. It was a different man from the one Ron remembered in his time, but he could've been cast from the same mould. He ordered a butterbeer out of habit and sat down in a table in the corner, not touching his drink, just thinking.  
  
He almost missed the next entrant into the pub, then almost leapt to his feet at the sight of him. Remembering himself in time, he settled down. It had to be Lucius Malfoy. He was the spitting image of his son, little older than Draco in Ron's time. The image of Draco as a whining, petulant two- year-old entertained Ron for a moment, before he realised what an opportunity this was – for he certainly knew this man for a Death Eater. Perhaps he had an advantage here after all. Nonetheless, his fingers didn't leave the hourglass in his pocket, ready to vanish out of time at a moment's notice.  
  
He watched the man cautiously over his drink for a few minutes, trying not to make it obvious what he was doing. The young Lucius, it seemed, was little different from Draco... loud and arrogant, superior and confident. The followers of Voldemort had little to fear. Oh, how that would change. Ron smirked, steeled himself, and quickly though through a few handy spells to find one he needed... a minute or two later, a young, rugged-looking, black- haired youth stood and sidled towards the table, silently slipping into the chair next to the Death Eater – no point in pointing the finger at the house of Weasley.  
  
"Good day," he said in a low voice. Lucius half-jumped and spurted his fire- whisky, glaring at him. The face curled into an ever-so-familiar snarl as he reached for his wand, and Ron continued, without showing fear. "I've been looking for you."  
  
The expression changed, then, to one of considerable caution. The hand hovered inches from the wand. "Oh really."  
  
Ron tried hard not to watch the other's hands – his hand closed around the hourglass. His voice was barely a whisper. "I want to join you." Confidence, pure confidence. Keep the enemy off balance. And his unsuspecting adversary was well off balance.  
  
"Did the Dar-" Lucius cut himself off midsentence, and glared around at the crowd as if daring someone to have heard him. Ron tried not to burst out laughing – this man was pathetic! – and managed to hold it down to a suitable dark chuckle.  
  
"I wish to join your cause. I'm very anxious to meet the Dark Lord. I've heard he can do... all sorts of incredible things for our glorious cause. And I have a lot of information he would find... useful. Something that can tip the scales in his favour." He gave what he hoped was his best evil-looking smile, trying not to gag at the words coming out of his mouth.  
  
"You're very confident for someone who doesn't seem to know their way in. Why don't you give me this... information of yours, then, and I'll see whether the Dark Lord finds some interest in you."  
  
"And let you take the credit? I don't think so. If you bring me to the Dark Lord, he will reward you enough." Ron was getting nervous now, but it was obvious that Lucius was too. He could almost see the cogwheels turning in the other's mind. He probably thought this was some kind of test.  
  
The Death Eater stared at him for a very long moment... before he nodded. "Very well. This is... highly unorthodox. But there will be a gathering... tonight, in fact. The Dark Lord himself will be arriving to evaluate the newest recruits. Return to this place at sundown. Somebody will be sent to collect you. Do not be late." He raised his voice, then, gesturing angrily at the firewhisky stain on his clothing. "Be sure I will hunt you down and send you the bill for this also. For future notice, remain amongst those of your station, and do not bother me again." He sneered, then stalked out, pausing only at the counter to reprimand the barkeep. "You should not let such rabble into your bar. You gain nothing but a bad name for it. Good day."  
  
By the time the rather minimal population of the bar had taken their attention from the flourishing young man, Ron had apparated out.  
  
---  
  
"Welcome... my loyal Death Eaters..." Voldemort hissed.  
  
Ron tried not to smile. He had made it. The screening process wasn't too strict, it seemed. But it probably didn't need to be... Ron looked around the room with a new recruit's frightened awe, only half-faked. Apart from the eight other new recruits, who were all identical in their robes that hid everything, identical to the one Ron himself had been given; Around him were people he recognised, in many cases mostly by their children... Crabbe and Goyle senior were there, and it was obvious that their status as flunkies was hereditary, though it was not Lucius Malfoy they flanked; other faces he recognised, he had almost taken a fatal double-take at the sight of a younger Snape there...  
  
And, of course, there was Voldemort.  
  
His appearance was startling, because it was... almost normal. He looked human. The only true mark of his evil was his eyes, red-tinted and snake- pupiled... and somehow, the normality made them all the more prominent.  
  
The sneer helped too.  
  
"My young recruits... Rise, step forward... and be welcomed to the Death Eaters... and help me bring wizardry back to the glory it deserves..." He beckoned to one in the line... and that one stumbled forward... his hood was pushed back... and Ron was shocked and repulsed to recognise Peter Pettigrew.  
  
He almost attacked, then and there. Even if he failed to strike Voldemort down, Peter's fall would mean that James and Lily would be safe... Harry would be safe... but...  
  
But Voldemort would still live. The prophecy had stated that only... that only... Harry could... kill him...  
  
Suddenly the entire plan crumbled out from underneath his mind. _Oh hell.  
  
_He almost leapt up there and then. He almost missed the next bit. Either might've been fatal. Because Voldemort stared into Pettigrew's eyes, and the boy stiffened; the Dark Lord smiled.  
  
"Oh, young Wormtail... such _envy_..." he hissed, a cruel smile twisting both face and voice... "Such _hunger_. Such _ambition_... you shall have all you desire, in time. Power. Recognition. _Revenge_. You are more than welcome here." And with that he pulled up Pettigrew's left arm roughly, and the robe's sleeve tumbled down... his fingers pressed against the arm, and Wormtail shrieked in pain as smoke curled up from the skin; as they were removed, the Dark Mark was red raw, branded onto his arm.  
  
He sobbed and cradled the burn, but nobody showed sympathy, except possibly the other hooded figures, and if they were, it was concealed. "Take your place. Welcome to the future."  
  
Ron went pale. Great. He had a mind-reading to look forward to. He fingered the golden hourglass in his pocket. This could go less than well. He could escape now... vanish out of time... but he'd need to convince himself, in the past, not to go through with this... and find another way.  
  
He was stuck in the past now. He had to try. And...  
  
Voldemort didn't have his wand.  
  
The Dark Lord had some power without it; that much was obvious by the brand on Wormtail's arm. But without it he would be effectively crippled. Voldemort was relying on his subordinates to protect him. And... Ron had the power to remove that protection. He fingered the hourglass some more. Perhaps this might work out after all.  
  
A second and a third potential recruit went up while he waited. He looked into their eyes for a heartbeat, gloated – though neither got quite the welcome Wormtail had – then branded them. It was a fast process.  
  
The fourth broke the system. He seemed even more afraid than the others. And it seemed he had good reason, for Voldemort held him by the chin a moment, then sneered and through him backwards onto the floor.  
  
"Traitor."  
  
Before any of the recruits could move, every experienced Death Eater in the room had their wand out. They spoke as one, flat and deadly.  
  
"_Crucio_."  
  
He _writhed_. A dozen experienced wizards and witches focusing their power on this creature was simply unimaginable. He shrieked horribly, inhumanly, all his muscles clenching against the pain that assaulted every nerve. His skin began to burn red as his body fought against the pain. He flopped horribly, trying to crawl away, scratching at his skin, as if trying to claw out something in it. Parts of him bent in ways that bodies just weren't supposed to bend as they tried to escape the pain. He clawed at his arms, his body, his face... Ron turned away before he saw the poor man claw at his face, hard and blindly.  
  
It took a couple of minutes before the screams simply ceased. No body was supposed to take that much pain. Ron noticed a _lot _of blood on his face before one of them _mobilicorpus_-ed the body away. He wasn't sure whether the man was unconscious or dead; right then, he wasn't sure which he hoped, because if he was alive, it wouldn't last, and he'd wish it was shorter than it was.  
  
And then it was him.  
  
The blood splattered on the ground remained. He stepped over it with a gulp. The moment of truth. His fingers tightened around the hourglass. He needed Voldemort to be distracted... the chain of the glass had to be touching him. The others still held their wands. A word from him, the slightest delay, and he was toast.  
  
He needed the moment, and the only way to do that was when Voldemort had a hold of him. He tried to remember everything Harry had told him about Occlumency... tried to clear his mind of all emotion... Blank it...  
  
As Voldemort took his chin and gazed into his eyes, his makeshift defences crumbled like paper, and he was swept back into the past...  
  
_Ron, Harry, and Hermione faced Voldemort as he snarled triumphantly at them...Harry's spell streaked towards the Dark Lord, who flicked it aside like nothing... and his counterspell struck not Harry but the ground beneath him...  
  
The earth all around rushed up in waves, forming long spires... Hermione and Ron were tossed aside relatively harmlessly, but Harry straight up, to land painfully as he fell once more on one spire, then tumble down the side... torn and bleeding from the sharp edges, falling in a broken heap at the bottom.  
  
Voldemort smiled, and raised his wand at the helpless boy.  
  
"_Avada_..."  
  
Before he'd gotten the first syllable out, Ron was already struggling back up and running. If Harry fell, it was all over... he could do this for his friend... for everyone... he knew he was prepared to leap in front of that beam, there was no question.  
  
Only he couldn't make it in time.  
  
He dove, reaching out his hand, but Voldemort's wand was already coming down.  
  
CRACK!  
  
"..._Kedavra_!"  
  
The green beam should've sailed past his outstretched hand by about a foot at the best. It never got close. He crashed to the ground painfully... in time to see Hermione collapse like her strings had been cut, right in front of him. She'd remembered her magic; she'd Apparated.  
  
Harry slowly levered his way up... everything seemed to go into slow motion... his glasses were destroyed, but he took in what happened quickly.  
  
Voldemort was halfway through raising his wand for the next spell when Harry screamed out those same words. The green light flashed over Ron's head and, despite Harry's lack of focus, struck Voldemort dead on.  
  
Voldemort barely had time to look surprised before death took him.  
_  
Voldemort gave a stunned cry of shock... no matter how grand or evil you were, there were some things you just didn't expect to see... but Ron, unexpecting to relive those memories too, hesitated just a little too long before his hand dived for his pocket. Voldemort had read his intentions, obviously; one hand whipped towards the hourglass pocket...  
  
It grabbed Ron's wrist as the hourglass came out. The chain whipped out under its own momentum and twirled around the Dark Lord's wrist.  
  
His grip was far from weak, but Ron had turned the hourglass before anyone else could react, and the two of them tumbled into the past. He did not have a chance to turn it again; Voldemort's grip shifted, grabbing at the hourglass... and Ron pulled away with it, the chain slipped off the Dark Lord's arm... but caught enough to make him fumble, dropping it. His last defence rolling out of his reach, he backed away, already grasping for his wand.  
  
Voldemort lashed out with a hand, and Ron went flying away; nobody should be able to hit that hard, but Voldemort was notorius for making such impossibilities.  
  
"I am to be defeated... by a mere INFANT?" roared the dark one, striding towards Ron once more... but stepping back as Ron raised his wand.  
  
"_Petrificus Totalis_!" Ron yelled.. Voldemort seemed to... flow aside, moving faster than anything living should be able to, easily dodging the spell. Ron tried to scramble to his feet, readying another spell. Voldemort smirked, and jumped into the air... and hovered there, suspended above the ground. Ron backed away a little, feeling the wall behind him... he growled and cast a simpler spell, "_Stup_-"  
  
But before he could get the word out, Voldemort muttered "_Elabor_." And Ron's spell was cut off as his vision blurred and the familiar feeling of a hook dragging him by the navel... and when it cleared again, Voldemort was nowhere in sight. He cursed a little, then a lot more as he realised that the magical hourglass was not where it had fallen on the floor. He had to get it back... he realised he probably should've brought two. And if Voldemort now had it...  
  
He moved to stride out of the room, and ran right into a wall.  
  
It was about then he realised how much trouble he was really in.  
  
Four doors led from the room, three of them were nothing but walls and the last a dimly transparent window to the outside world. A quick test showed that Apparating was not an option. He only tried casting a spell on the window once; it rebounded powerfully and only barely missed him, then bounced around the room at random before it petered out, while he curled in a corner trying to avoid it.  
  
He had no option but to sit and wait, staring at the window. It only took a few minutes before his opponent appeared, watching smugly from beyond... and swinging the hourglass back and forth on its chain tauntingly.  
  
"You know, Ronald Weasley, that's the first time I've ever had to use that portkey. I designed it for emergencies, but nobody's ever gotten that close to me. Not even the highest of my dear Death Eaters know of its existence. I would be extremely angry at you... but you've offered me knowledge, opportunities... power far beyond any trouble you might've caused."  
  
Ron snarled and pulled back his wand, but Voldemort tutted and shook his head. "Noo.. I think not. That room is designed for holding wizards just like you. You can try if you like, but it won't touch me." Ron snarled a moment longer... then lowered his wand a little, knowing that what he said was true – his spell would just rebound onto him. Voldemort looked somewhat disappointed, but didn't stop smiling.  
  
"For your efforts in bringing me this information... I think I'm going to give you a great honour... you see, I'm not quite happy with how events unfolded in your time... so I think I'm going to go make history. And you, young Weasley, will help me." And with that, he slowly pulled out a long wand, smiling cruelly. "Imperio..."  
  
The spell flashed right through the barrier that rebounded Ron's power... he was so surprised he almost didn't think to dodge it... but he leapt out of the way just in time. Of course, the nature of the room meant that it rebounded right off the wall behind him, striking him dead in the back...  
  
---  
  
...And awoke from the controlling daze some time later, with Voldemort smiling down at him cruelly... it was later in the night, and he tried to sort his memories out... but they weren't as important as the struggling child in the Dark Lord's arms.  
  
"It's... amusing, really. Almost cute. This was the creature who is destined to kill me. Who destroyed my reign, brought down my Death Eaters... allow fools like old Dumbledore to stay in charge. But wait... what's this? I'm still here. Look Ron... no scar." He showed the one-year-old Harry to Ron, grinning cruelly, tracing where the lightning bolt scar was supposed to rest.  
  
"No..." he whispered... but then looked closer... realised that Harry was still alive? Voldemort smirked.  
  
"I don't dare try to kill him. I don't know the exact nature of what protects him. But I can make very, very sure that he is permanently harmless to me. I hope to see you again in your 'next life', Ronald Weasley. In fact... I intend to make sure of it." And with that, he laughed and walked from the house.. several Death Eater minions he hadn't noticed following after, barely giving him a glance... leaving him alone in the house, with...  
  
The memories came flooding back...  
  
James and Lily Potter...  
  
He just sat down, half-collapsing.. staring around at the destruction... James Potter lay next to him, looking like an elder shadow of his son... except with different eyes... eyes which, despite the glaze of death which covered them, bored into him accusingly... even as everything else seemed to fade away, that gaze remained. It was too late before he realised that his vision was indeed fading... and he never had a chance to resist it from the start... and a few moment later, he was out of consciousness, out of time... all the way out of reality...

- - - - - - - - -

_End of chapter one._


	3. Chapter Two: Ronald Weasley, Death Eater

Author's Notes: Sorry the update took so long, but Damos and I hit a rather big wall of writer's block and then forgot about this thing. I just remembered it today, so here is chapter two.

-------------------

"Where has my heart gone?

An uneven trade for the real world  
Oh I  
I want to go back to  
Believing in everything and knowing nothing at all

I still remember the sun, always warm on my back

Somehow it seems colder now

Where has my heart gone?

Trapped in the eyes of a stranger..."

Evanescence, "Field of Innocence"

------

Chapter Two: Ronald Weasley, Death Eater

"Ron?"

Ron slowly sat up in the darkness, feeling the soft give of a feather bed beneath him. He turned to his side, looking down at the _Oh crap, she's barely wearing anything _young woman next to him, a sleepy but concerned look on Ron's face. _Hell, I'M barely wearing anything and I'm in BED wi—_

"Ron, darling, did you have another nightmare?" she asked sympathetically, sleepily. _Nightmare? NIGHTMARE? THIS is a nightma-_

"Yes, that's all it was…" Ron replied after a thoughtful pause. _What? _He sighed gently and lay back down in the bed, settling after moments and letting his fiance _WHAT!_ snuggle up to him again.

As Crimaiestas quickly dozed off in his arms again _Crimaiestas? Who's… this girl, Crimaiestas? Fiance?_ he thought quietly ahead… he knew he had to sleep again, the master needed him at the lesson tomorrow _Master… what lesson? Surely this wasn't Hogwarts… _but it looked to be a bad night again, the nightmares again… _Something very, very weird is happening here…_

He sighed and hugged the girl, gently if not with true feeling… nightmares… There were some things no magic could keep away forever, not even from the Secret Keeper of the prophecized fate, Ronald M. Riddle, soon to be son-in-law of the Dark Lord Voldemort himself, the true master…

…_Wait, I'm going to be the WHA-_

A voice hissed, _"Sleep, my son."_

Ron was out cold before he knew it'd spoken.

---

Ron awoke again to find himself alone, sighing. _A… dream, a nightmare… the battle, the time-turner, the… fiance, god, Hermione would kill me if sh- _He gently turned his head, his eyes slowly turned to the white mask on the dark bedside table. _Death Eater mask… in here… I'm…_ He got up to a sitting position slowly, looking at the mask slowly, picking it up for a moment, before finally setting it down.

Slowly he got up, glancing around the room for a heartbeat, searching, before moving over to the wardrobe. He opened it and picked one of the set of identical _all black, high-class, like a uniform- _robes, putting it on with stiff mechanical movements _A_ _uniform for Death Eaters…I'm one of them? No! I can't be- _and quickly nodded, checking his image in the mirror, making final adjustments _They fit me perfectly… better than anything back home… god, I look like Draco in his fancy-shmancy tailor-made dress robes…_

"Ron, aren't you up yet?"

Though slightly startled, he gave no outward indication, merely turning to see Crimaiestas in similar black garb, her long black hair tied back in an intricate design. She smiled, and a crimson snake tattoo glared at him from her right cheek, flicking its tongue at him as he watched her, strange and exotic, quite a contrast from the cinnamon-brown eyes… _The eyes don't fit the face… _which somehow seemed to smile both far more gently and far more dangerously than the tight, blood-red lips.

"Oh, so you did decide to get up," she said, smiling slightly. "It's about time. Father wants to talk to you before today's entertainment."

"Alright then." Ron nodded, without smiling back. "I shall go see him now, then." _Father… she's…_

She suddenly grinned far more wolfishly, a smile that would probably send shivers down many men's spines, though he took it impassively. _What's she got that scary grin for? _"Try not to delay him too much this time." In a lecturing tone, half-serious and with the sound of something oft-repeated. "I want to get a chance to participate this time, before the festivities start getting… monotonous."

"I'll do my best." _Yeah, no delay in mind before a visit to the Dark Lord…_ He gave her a tight, humourless smile, and walked from the room. _Not that it seems I have much choice. _He left the door open behind him, walking out into the compound beyond, footsteps echoing with every long stride. _I even have Snape's walk now… _Double doors, intricately carved and very impressive, were passed through with barely a glance, two _Gah! _guardian-looking Death Eaters with just as little notice or care.

…_I really do fit in here… _

A second set of double doors led into an enormous audience chamber. The air seemed to chill slightly as four cloaked figures _Dementors… oh god… _turned to observe his entrance, but turned away again shortly afterwards as he met their eyeless gaze; their emotion-searing presence barely touching him. _I h-hate dementors…_

But central to the room was a raised dais, a throne sculpted with the bodies of snakes, silver scales shining, emerald eyes glinting, and in it…

_It's him… he'll see right through me, I'm dead…_

"Ah, my son." Voldemort crooned, as Ron strode to the stone platform, somewhat slower. _Son, now, too? This just keeps getting bett-_

"My master and father." Ron knelt on the floor. _Why am I going along with this? _

"Rise, Ronald," the Dark Lord granted, and Ron straightened to face him. The serpentine eyes bored into his own. "Your sleep was troubled last night."

_Oh crap oh crap he knows he can read my mind _"Yes." _NO! No deny it I'm not here! Has he got me under an Imperius curse? Is that why… has he known all along? _Ron paused slightly, tilting his head with a slightly concerned look, but then straightened. "A minor nightmare, nothing more."

"Oh? What did this nightmare involve?"

"I remember little, my lord, save that you were struck down somehow, by a mere child, untrained. It is nonsense." Voldemort hissed quietly, but Ron's face betrayed no smugness, merely stating fact. _Haha, yeah, you know it happened, 'dark lord'. It should've… should've happened._

Voldemort's look was dark. "No other memory remains of this… aberration?" he hissed, his voice like a knife being sharpened. _This is the aberration. The other world is true._

"None, my lord."

The serpent eyes were worse _look away, he'll see _than the voice, sharper, more dangerous _look away, look away! _but Ron met them without flinching, _Do you WANT him to kill you! _staring impassively back into them.

"You are hiding something from me, my son." His voice fell _like the final stone on my unmarked grave _to tones dangerously low, but still Ron stared into those eyes, not responding. _Look away! Run! KILL HIM if you have to! _

Everything stood still for _an eternity_ a few seconds, then Voldemort suddenly started laughing. "You're improving, child. You can keep your little secret. You'll make a fine heir indeed. Come! The entertainment begins."

_How did I… why am I still alive… _"Yes, master. You know I am always prepared to serve you in whatever way you see fit." He bowed again. _Oh god, why do I get the feeling I'm not going to be entertained…_

"Excellent, my servant, my son. Attend me." He stood, walking for the doors. _What the blazes is going on… why am I here _Ron fell into step on his right, slightly behind him _at the right hand of the dark lord…_ and paid equally little notice as the two Death Eaters bowed to the duo then fell into step either side; the chill in the air suggested that the dementors followed also. The group strode through the corridors with a purpose _Where are we going_ and didn't stop until they came to a door, otherwise unmarked.

_What is this place? _Voldemort nodded to the red-haired boy and gave him a full keyring, from which Ron deftly located the desired key _Well, I'm glad my body knows where we are, but why don't I! _and fitted it to the lock, turning to Voldemort for confirmation and, receiving the nod, opened the cell _wait, cell? Prison cell? _door and pulled it open; and at another nod from the Dark Lord, preceded him into the room.

The cell was small and somewhat cramped, and held _Oh god, no..._ but a single occupant, chained to the wall by his wrists _Not like this… _grease matting his black hair into a wildly disgusting style _I won't…_ bare, rather scrawny chest covered with bruises, and green-gold eyes squinting against the light entering the dark cell, flinching from the dementors, narrowing at the silhouette that filled the doorway.

"You," he croaked in a hoarse voice, staring hatefully at Ron.

"Me," Ron replied flippantly, a smile touching his face that didn't touch his mind. _He looks familiar… I know him… it's not Harry, thank god, but…_

"Haven't you had enough!" the wizard spat out, but with more despair than any real energy or threat. Ron sneered as he watched the dementors' aura sink into a mind that might have thought itself prepared for one final fight against its captors _Final fight, both of us know this is the last…_

Voldemort chuckled in amusement at these antics. "Such rivalry," he spoke in a hiss that was almost a purr. "Such a shame today will be your last…"

_Voldemort's going to kill him… No! I can't let him die… whoever he is…_

"So soon, my lord?" Ron turned to Voldemort. _Yes, let him put it off! _"I was so enjoying his company, though I do admit he becomes less entertaining with time." He said boredly, apathetically. The wizard had been fun, his struggles pathetic, but there was only so much to do. _How can I even THINK this?_

"Yes, my son… this one has outlived his purpose. What was it the prophecy stated? _Either must die at the hand of the other_, that was it, wasn't it, Longbottom…"

_Longbottom? Oh god, Neville! If Neville had grown up being trained like Harry, in a world like this… Neville's the one in the prophecy? _Ron chuckled darkly to himself, shaking his head at what even the other Death Eaters didn't know _Oh, come on, can't I know either? I'm you, why ca- _

"Well, your hands don't look too set to do much killing, young man" _Oh god, his hands look like they've been mauled by one of Hagrid's pets _"so here's to prophecy." Voldemort smiled grimly, putting a hand to his wand, then hesitated, slight worry showing on his face.

…_What's he waiting for? He… he's still afraid… if the prophecy somehow transferred… that he might fall… Not endlessly smug, are you, oh dark lord? _Ron turned to him slightly, about to say something, but he was gestured back, and a dementor entered the cell with a sweeping finger _Oh no… don't do that, you wouldn't—_and glided forward onto Neville… Ron got one last look at the terrified stare on Neville's face _No, no, no no no no NO! NO! Fight it, ward it off, Harry showed you how, expecto patronum! EXPECTO PATRONUM! _and gave a slight frown, twitching his head slightly, and then the dark cloak swirled around Neville and all that could be seen was the final spasms of the body, as the dementor inhaled, then the body fell as almost as still as a corpse as it swept away out of the room once more, the terrified stare locked on Neville's face, softened only slightly as his body's natural functions took over without the direction of a conscious soul, long breaths, slow heartbeats. _No, Neville… this is all my fault…_

Voldemort laughed. "What a gift that will make for our friends in the wizarding circles… the prophecy is fulfilled! The Dark Lord triumphs!" _You know that's bull, Voldemort, you murdering bastard!… _"That's today's entertainment… our success is assured! Dismissed!" _You cold, callous, evil reptile _He gave a triumphant smile and strode from the room, leaving the others to do as they wished. The bodyguards followed with barely a thought, and the dementors soon swept away down the corridor _Neville, this isn't fair, how dare they, you weren't even the one_ but Ron hesitated in the room, staring at Neville for a long moment.

"What is…" _What is what, and who cares anyway?_

Without warning he turned on his heels, slamming the door shut and leaving _Neville to rot in a cell, trapped in a body without a soul _it to lock itself, heading back towards his room, nearly running into Crimaiestas as she stepped from her room.

"It's over already?"she asked, sounding most disappointed _You're as bad as he is, you heartless bitch_ that she had missed the fun.

"There wasn't anything left of him. And now there's absolutely nothing left of him. Dementor's Kiss." _And apparently I'm just as bad as well…_

"Huh. Didn't think he'd do that, what with his talk of the prophecy all the time… I suppose he's not dead, then, just soulless."

"If it helps, it was Father's hand that pointed the dementor to its target." Ron smirked at her ignorance, the one thing he was given priority over her for…

"So be it. What now, then, oh mighty heir to the dark lord?" She smiled and _Get away from me _sidled closer, a seductive smile on her lips as she stared up at him. _Don't even think about it._

"I have my own business to attend to," he said coldly, and gently slipped around her, and strode down the corridor _I'm not sure who I'm rooting for here… _leaving her standing rejected behind him.

He opened the door to his room, closed it behind him, and tapped the handle with his wand, satisfied that it was locked beyond anyone's ability bar his father himself.

_What am I doing? _He stared around the room for a moment then settled on the Death Eater mask once more, picking it up again _filthy piece of… don't want to touch it, just burn it, I am NOT a Death Eater, I am…_

"I know you're there." _What! _Ron said thoughtfully, to no-one apparently. "I can feel you… you're trying to talk to me. You don't want this to happen. You don't like the mask. Who are you?"

_I'm… I'm Ron. I'm RON! The real Ron! You're a phoney, a twisted… a twisted aberration, that's what you are! Death Eater scum, Voldemort's lackey, I'd never be_—Ron held his head slightly, falling back against the bed… "What are you…"

_Get out of my body, and stop this charade! The dark one won't win! This isn't real!_

"…I… don't understand. This is… curious. I will not all-"

_I'm not CURIOUS, I'm YOU, and you are NOTHING! I won't let this happen! Give me ba_ "-ck my body!" Ron screamed suddenly, still holding his head, his face twisted as internal struggle took place.

"I am the dark lord's-" _You are nothing, I am- _"heir. No mere voice in-" _my head is going to- _"Ronald Weasley, I am not Voldemort's playtoy, and-" _take my place, I will be feared by all and- _"worshipped at the side of my master as is proper!" _you will not continue this foolishness any longer!_

Ron snarled, then seemed to calm somewhat. "You will not have me. I will be the Dark One's heir. Nothing will stop me."

_You're weakening. Before you could barely hear me. Now I can speak, I can fight you. Soon I will have you._

"Never."

But despite his words, Ron looked and felt as worried as he could ever remember feeling. Worry was something he had left behind long ago, but this was… this was dangerous indeed.

The voice in his head laughed, sensing the weakness, and he knew he could hide nothing. He settled back on his bed, preparing his mental fortress for a battle from a direction he'd never expected to face…


End file.
